


Pacha

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: Farkas gets unintentionally introduced to foreign food. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write stories about the Dragonborn I play as, in part because I don't feel people would find that interesting enough (since experiencing Skyrim is often deeply personal to players). For this reason, I usually leave the race and gender of the Dovahkiin ambiguous in my Skyrim material.  
> Still, I was bored today and my friend and I were talking about my female Redguard Dragonborn and her marriage to Farkas. About how Hammerfell probably has Arabic-based food and how our favorite Companion would react to some of the more unusual dishes. So I've decided to post it here for laughs.

Sometimes, Zeita Sendu, better known to many as the Last Dragonborn, still missed her former home of Hammerfell. First and foremost, she missed the weather, as even now, the cold winters of Skyrim were harsh on her. Secondly, she missed her family, even though most of them had long since left for the Far Shores. Thirdly, she missed being able to pray to the gods in her own tongue and with Ra Gada names. And lastly, she missed the food. 

The food of Skyrim was by no means bad. In fact, she enjoyed the Nords’ preference for cooked meat in large quantities, particularly the native dish of mammoth steak. Still, their foods were comparatively bland to the meals back in Hammerfell and much more simplistic. Sometimes, she yearned for the kind of intricate dishes her parents used to put on the table for her and whenever the duty of the Dragonborn wasn’t calling, she would try to replicate them herself. Today, while her husband Farkas was still asleep after a long assignment, seemed like a good time.

Today, the food on the menu was pacha. It had taken her a while to gather all the ingredients. A lot of the spices were hard to obtain in this province and especially the local butchers had frowned at her when she’d asked for animal parts they’d rather throw away. Still, they had sold them to her when she offered money and now, here she was in the main hall of Jorrvaskr, cooking herself a nostalgic meal on the spit she’d installed there.

The whole thing went rather smoothly. She cut the meat, vegetables and potatoes, putting them in a pot and boiling them above the fire. Soon, delicious smells filled the hall and she could hardly wait to actually sit down and consume this little bit of home.

“Harbinger? I need your help!”

Zeita looked over her shoulder to find her shield-sister Aela standing there, an annoyed look on her face. “Njada and Athis are at it again. Worse than usual. I need an extra pair of hands to pry them apart.”

The Redguard rolled her eyes in response. “Again? Alright, fine. I’ll help you out.”

With those words, she put down her ladle and went with her. She was confident in her own strength to pull apart two feuding whelps. She’d be back long before her meal had a chance to burn.

Indeed, merely five minutes later she was already heading back to the main hall. Leaving Aela to properly admonish the other two Companions, she rushed back to her dish. Except when she returned, the pot she’d left cooking above the fire was no longer there.

Instead, she found it on the left most edge of the long table, in the company of a now awake Farkas. Her fellow Companion and husband had put part of the contents on a plate and was apparently quite happily shoveling large amounts of it into his mouth. The sight of him so happily eating _her_ meal, at least without asking, didn’t quite sit well with her and she marched over to point that out to him.

“Farkas, dear, that’s my food you’re eating.”

Her husband looked up, smiling brightly. “Oh, you cooked this? It’s really nice. Quite spicy, but good. And I didn’t take much. There is enough left for you too.”

He pushed the pot in her direction and she could see that he spoke the truth. He had in fact left a generous amount of food in there, enough for her to properly sate herself. He’d never been a selfish person and she had to admit it was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him. Still, seeing that he had still taken it without asking and though she wasn’t all that angry at him, she still couldn’t resist getting in a little payback. And what better payback than the truth?

“Um, Farkas? Are you aware of what you’re eating?”

Swallowing another bite, the Nord cast her a glance. “No, why?”

She smiled her most innocent smile. “It’s called pacha. It’s a dish native to Hammerfell. In the common tongue, it’s basically goat brains.”

She remained perfectly silent afterwards, quietly waiting for his reaction. She saw how the spoon stopped halfway to Farkas’s mouth. He slowly lowered it, then looked at her. 

For a moment, Zeita expected a look of absolute horror or disgust. The slow lowering of the spoon while the face took on a green tinge and an ucomfortable choking sound was made. It was the most common reaction outsiders had to this native dish and it never stopped to amuse her. Yet as she looked him in the face, that was not what she got at all. Farkas’s face didn’t remotely display any sense of discomfort at all. Instead, it was a look of such complete and utter indifference that would bring despair to Molag Bal himself, followed by a casual shrug.

“Hm. I’ve eaten worse.”

Having said this, he shoved the spoonful of pacha into his mouth, barely chewing before having another. “Have some too. Else it gets cold.”

The Dragonborn simply stood there for a moment, completely taken aback by his calm reaction to the contents of her food. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how uncaring he was, but in the end, she decided that it really was more funny than anything else. Especially when he stopped eating for a moment to put some pacha on a plate next to her and asked her to come eat with him.

She happily obliged, glad to confirm the meal tasted as good as she remembered, and her annoyance quickly faded. The only real loss here was that she now knew she could never use offal-based dishes from Hammerfell against him as a prank. She supposed that was what she got for marrying a former werewolf.


End file.
